


I'm Not Lazy, I Just Have Executive Dysfunction

by KittyKatBella



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Autistic Ford, Autistic Stanford Pines, Dealing with executive dysfunction, and sensory issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 01:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKatBella/pseuds/KittyKatBella
Summary: Instances of how executive dysfunction affected Ford when he was younger, and how he deals with it when he's older.





	I'm Not Lazy, I Just Have Executive Dysfunction

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based of a shirt I own that says "I'm Not Lazy, I Just Really Enjoy Doing Nothing." I had come up with the change awhile ago.
> 
> Does anyone notice a pattern with the titles of fics centered around autistic Ford/Bella?
> 
> C̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶'̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶c̶o̶r̶r̶e̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶u̶t̶i̶s̶m̶ ̶m̶y̶t̶h̶s̶.̶

"Sixer! Why don't you eat something?"

"I'm not hungry," Ford said, turning a page in his book.

"I can hear your stomach from the hallway," Stan raised an eyebrow and looked up at Ford. The older twin paused, lowering his book and looking back at Stan.

"You can?" He asked. Stan nodded slowly, and just then Ford's stomach rumbled loudly. Ford blinked owlishly, setting a hand on his stomach and looking confused.

"Huh. I don't feel hungry," he mumbled.

"Uh-huh, sure," Stan rolled his eyes and swung around on the support for the bunk bed. "It's because you're distracted with those dumb nerd books."

"They are _not_ dumb!" Ford defended. He closed the book, holding it to his chest. "They're interesting! And fun!"

"What's that one about?"

"Erm... evolution..."

" _Neeeeeerrrrrrrrd!_ " Stan yelled. "Really, Pointdexter? You're reading _that_? It's spring break!"

"Doesn't mean I can't expand by mind," Ford responded matter-of-factly. Stan snorted.

"Whatever. Just go and eat," he said. "I can practically hear you about to pass out."

\-----

"Hey Ford, weren't you supposed to take a shower?"

"Er- maybe," Ford tugged the blanket higher over his head, hiding his face. Stan frowned slightly and tilted his head.

"So... are you going to?" He asked.

"...eventually," Ford mumbled. "I don't want to... get up..."

"Really?" Stan laughed. "You've reached a new level of lazy, Pointdexter."

"I'm not lazy!" Ford protested, sitting up and throwing the blanket off him. "The water just... feels... weird..."

"The water feels weird?" Stan questioned slowly. "Y'know, Ford, if you don't wanna shower, you can just say so. I'm not judging."

"It's not that!" Ford groaned. "I don't know how to explain it. The water just feels bad. Like, it feels..."

"Feels...?" Stan prompted, folding his arms.

"...you're gonna think it's dumb," Ford mumbled.

"I think a lot of things you say are dumb," Stan said. "Shoot."

_Shoot, like a gun? No, no, like "go for it."_

"It... feels..." Ford slowly pulled his blanket back over his head, "like I'm getting stabbed a lot..."

"What was that?"

"...Like I'm getting stabbed a lot..."

"...you're right, that is weird," Stan agreed. "Well I dunno, but you still need to shower, Ford. You stink."

"Ok," Ford groaned. "Fine."

Stan nodded and sat at the desk they shared, grabbing some crayons and beginning to scribble on a sheet of paper. Ford sat for a moment longer as he watched him before finally going down the ladder and making his way to the bathroom.

\-----

"Ugh... Ford?"

"Huh?" Ford jumped slightly, looking up from his artwork and at Stan. The younger twin squinted from his bed. The room was illuminated by a small desk lamp, and a digital clock read 2:39 AM on their bedside table.

"What're you still doin' up?" Stan asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm not tired," Ford answered.

"Really?" Stan seemed a bit surprised. "Yeesh, how do you do that?"

"Do what?" Ford asked, returning to his sketch.

"Stay up so long without being tired," Stan pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. "I swear, you're magic or something."

Ford chuckled, pausing in his work and chewing on the end of his pen as he thought over his answer.

"I'm not sure, actually," he finally said. "I just... don't feel tired."

"Heh. Lucky," Stan chuckled. "Well, make sure you get some sleep or something."

"Mm-hm, sure," Ford nodded, not completely paying attention. Stan rolled back over and fell asleep again. Ford's pen left his mouth and touched down on the paper again.

_3:05_

Half an hour later, all of a sudden, Ford felt exhausted. It always seemed to happen like that. One moment he'd be fine, and the next he'd feel as though he were about to pass out. His eyelids drooped, and he yawned as he rubbed at them. He had to keep going, though. This drawing was almost done; he couldn't just stop in the middle of it.

He yawned again, and he began to think it was a lost cause. He had to sleep. From experience, continuing to work in a state like this would only hinder his art. Besides, all he needed was a few hours of sleep anyways. So he set his pen down- his pen specifically, Stan didn't want to use one with chew marks all over the top- and barely managed to climb up the ladder to his own bed. One good thing about waiting till he was exhausted to go to bed, though.

He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

\-----

"Hey Ford, when's the last time you took a break?"

"Five minutes ago," Ford answered, chewing on the pen topper chewy on the top of his pen as he looked over his notes. They had three tests next week and he wanted to be prepared.

"Ok," Stan nodded. "And when's the last time you ate?"

"Uh..." Ford blinked, looking up. "I'm... not sure."

"Ford..."

"Yes, I know, I remember the plan!" Ford sighed, playing. "I'm sorry, I just got distracted."

"Every three hours," Stan said. "Go get something to eat."

"Can I wait until my next break?" Ford asked. "It's only twenty-five more minutes."

"Pause the timer, go eat," Stan folded his arms. 

"Ok, fine," Ford huffed and paused the timer on his phone before going downstairs. He made himself a sandwich and sat down at the kitchen table with Stan. They talked for a bit until their mom entered the room.

"Hi boys," she smiled.

"Hey Ma."

"Hi, Ma."

"What're you two doing?" She asked.

"Just having a snack," Ford answered, showing off his sandwich a bit.

"That's nice," Ma smiled. "You've been eating a lot more, Ford. Are you feeling ok?"

"Yes," Ford nodded. "Stan and I, or, well, Stan noticed that I don't usually eat until I'm practically starving, so we came up with a system: I stop for a snack or something to eat once at least every three hours."

"Hm! That's smart," Ma said.

"Yeah well, Pointdexter is like that," Stan grinned, ruffling his brother's hair. Ford swatted his hand away and chuckled.

"Thank you Stan, but it was your idea," he reminded him.

"Well it was Fiddle's idea to come up with a plan," Stan shrugged. "I just made up the specifics."

\-----

"Hey Ford."

"Hm?" He looked up from writing in his journal. Bella was standing in the doorway, hanging off the edge of the wall with one hand.

"It's Wednesday," Bella told him. "Mabel sa- Mabel said you gotta bathe."

"Oh, right," Ford nodded. "Alright, just let me finish up this entry."

Bella winked and clicked her tongue twice.

"Oh, and when you're done, we're um, watching a movie," she said. "Downstairs. In the... second living room? The one right by the kitchen. So, hurry up."

"Heh, alright."

One reason Ford liked the summer more than any other time was that, while he was in Gravity Falls, with his Graunty Mabel and Grunkle Dipper and Graunty Candy, he was allowed to take baths instead of showers. As with most things now, he had gotten on a schedule of when he took baths. Wednesdays and Sundays.

Baths were much better than showers. At first it had felt a bit childish, taking a bath when he was fifteen, but he learned they were better for him. Because of his autism, he figured out that's why he hated the feel of showers. Why the spray felt like he was being stabbed, instead of just covered with water.

Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to take baths at home. For the exact reason that they were childish; his parents simply wouldn't let him. Or his dad wouldn't, at least. Ford had told his mom about his self-diagnosis, and after a bit, she had come around to support him. But he still couldn't tell his dad. He was too scared of how he would react.

Mabel and Dipper let him. They knew why he didn't like showers, and they didn't mind that he took baths, as long as he got clean somehow. Apparently, they were tired of living with a teenage boy who refused to bathe. They weren't the only ones.

As Ford ran the bath and got undressed, he spotted a bottle on the edge of the (rather large) bathtub that he hadn't seen before. Since the mansion was so big, everyone was able to get their own bathroom, so this wasn't someone else's; this was definitely for him. He picked up the bottle and saw a brink pink sticky note with familiar sparkily writing on it.

_'Found this for you! I think you'll like it!'_

Ford peeled off the sticky note and laughed slightly. It was coffee-scented bubble bath. Leave it to Mabel to find something he had never seen in stores just for him. He unscrewed the cap and gave a sniff; it did smell like coffee. Not as good as the actual stuff, but still nice. He filled the cap with the bubble bath and dumped it under the running water. Soon the entire tub was filled with bubbles, and a slight coffee scent had engulfed the room. Ford took a deep breath in and sighed happily.

This was why he enjoyed summer.

Ford slowly sunk into the hot water, which came up to near his shoulders. He had to say, living in this mansion was pretty sweet. He was always shocked at how big the bathtub was; he felt like he could possibly swim across it. But he didn't. Instead he sat on the bench around the edge of the tub and used the various soaps to wash himself. The soaps themselves weren't scented, which meant there was nothing to replace the smell of coffee in the bathroom.

He finished washing quickly, but decided to sit for a few more minutes in the water, slowly waving his hand through and playing with the bubbles. A grin spread across his face. Sure, it was childish, but he had learned recently that childish wasn't necessarily bad.

Soon he finished up, crawling out of the draining tub and wrapping a towel around his waist. He combed his hair, humming lightly as he did so. After he was done, he dried his hair using a second towel and ran the comb through it once more. His hair fluffed up slightly and he gripped it lightly, smiling at how soft it was.


End file.
